


Letting go

by TheRisingTied



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, But Mike and Chester exist, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Linkin Park does not exist, M/M, More tags to be added later when more chapters go online, No one will die don't worry, Slow Burn, bennoda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRisingTied/pseuds/TheRisingTied
Summary: Real life does not work like that, right? It does not spawn some random miracle out of nowhere, like it happens in movies, just so the protagonist can have a nice and peaceful happy ending. And still, there is this random man appearing out of nowhere when Mike finally has the guts to leave his sorry existence behind. No, there will be no happy ending for him. It can't be. Shouldn't be... right?
Relationships: Chester Bennington & Mike Shinoda, Chester Bennington/Mike Shinoda
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1 - Mike's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and thanks for being here!  
> I want to mention that english is not my first language - however I do have some writing experience and usually feel relatively comfortable using the english language. There could still be minor errors and mistakes, hopefully nothing major, also this fic is not beta-read. I still hope you will enjoy it and give it a try!  
> Also, please leave me a comment if you like! Thank you a lot!

Some things are so delicate they break and rip into pieces once you grab onto them for a little harder. A little more desperate to keep them as something you own, just to see them disappear, float away like a piece of ripped paper being carried away by the waves of the sea. And _you_ , what do you _do_? You stand there, holding out your hand but at the same time pulling back because you know it's just too hard to try and get it back, the shattered remains of what has once been whole.

Maybe you even do not _care_ enough to put in all the effort.

Maybe you feel tired and sore and hope it will find its way back on its own. Coming together to form that same picture it once has been, before you tried to held onto it after letting it go too many times.

Life doesn't work like that, though.

In movies, it does. There's always that flicker of hope somewhere and all of a sudden, things start to happen which the protagonist usually describes as _fate_... or whatever. Broken pieces come back after a while, or they get replaced by something even better, less fragile, more whole. The ending is happy and filled with sunrays and laughter, with something that tells people that everything could be happening, making them believe in miracles.

It sucks. Because it isn't true.

Because sometimes, when you fucked up big time, there is no miracle coming toward you in an effort to save your sorry ass. Life will look down onto you, a creepy smile stretched along its invisible face, impressed and amused about what shit you've managed to create and put yourself into. And you just stare back at the abyss, getting bigger and bigger in an effort to swallow you whole while you run for your life, panting, gasping for air that suddenly just seems to be vanishing, leaving you breathless as you fall.

You try to breathe but it burns inside your lungs, like a wildfire, spreading along your veins into your whole existence.

You got no other choice left. The world is out there, yellowed teeth smiling as hands grab for your throat and squeeze. Squeeze more and more. And _you_? You want to break free, so desperately, but you can't. You run but at the same time you stand still, you reach out for something but your fingers do not move.

Whatever you do, you make it worse. Instead of finding that happy ending movies always tell about, you keep finding the opposite. The black abyss just comes closer and closer the further you try and get away from it.

_Perhaps you are a cursed soul_. Who knows?

...

His hands hold onto the railing, fingers curling around it so tightly his knuckles turn white. There's wind brushing along his cold nose and dried out lips, ruffling his hair in the process. He hears it, the sound of waves clashing below his feet, even though the water is quite a distance away from where he is currently positioned. Reaching it from here would take a few seconds, he's sure about that.

The weather's rough tonight. While the rain has finally stopped falling, the air still feels humid and cold. It's shaken up in a way, and he wonders if it's a direct response to _him_ being shaken as well. As if the earth is holding a mirror into his face, probably even mocking him for all he has done in the past and would still be doing in the future... in case things wouldn't just end here, right now, at this place.

However, it does sound comforting. Knowing that _this_ could be it. That there would be nothing left, he could be gone, no one would remember his sorry ass and the world could continue to exist as his own existence vanishes.

He takes a breath, deep into his lungs. He can taste the water below his feet, lingering in the air around him. And while the waves continue to clash together they seem to be the only sound filling the nothingnness.

He is alone.

No one is there to witness what's about to happen.

Which is good.

This is how it's supposed to be.

Dark brown eyes are covered by skin as he closes them, squeezing them shut as his fingers hold onto the railing behind him. Holding on, just a little longer. A little bit more. Just a few additional seconds.

He just needs to let go. _That's it_. Just needing to relax his hands and then gravity would do the rest, with his body leaning forward like that. Just one move, but it feels like life itself has a powerful grab around his digits to hold them where they are.

Like a final challenge that he has to beat. A final goodbye from his pathetic existence that somehow wants him gone but keeps fighting for him to not do it.

Isn't that funny, though?

It causes a smile to spread over his lips. _Weird_.

Maybe it's a smile that tells how much he looks forward to this. That he will be able to let go, kicking life in the ass, flipping it off inside his head.

He's better than this!

But maybe it's something else. Something he does not want to think about.

He knows that some smiles are actually sad ones.

Does he look sad?

_Why would he be?_

Isn't this supposed to feel good? Promising, even? Knowing that, in just a few seconds, he could finally let go of whatever curls around his heart like a fist, squeezing his lungs and ribs and intestines? The pain would be gone. No more sorrow. No more longing.

No more hate.

Let go. It's one simple motion.

Just uncurl your fingers. One by one.

Let go.

_Let go!_

...

"Hey."

The sudden noise startles him so badly he almost does it, his fingers just quick enough to grab onto the railing once more before his weight pulls him down to the rough surface of the river flowing along below his feet. He opens his eyes in shock as he whips his head around to face whoever was there, all of a sudden, seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere.

A pair of another dark brown eyes meet his own, but they don't seem to judge. They just look at him, seem to be curious, perhaps?

That man is also smiling slightly. It's odd.

Why does it feel... comforting, in a weird way?

"...Hey?"

It's a question coming from his own dry lips, directed at his unwelcomed visitor. It takes him another second to realize that this man is also standing at the wrong side of the railing, but looks much more collected and... _comfortable_ , even. His hands hold onto the cold steel as his own do, but he's practically lounging there, as if this was the right place to just relax for a moment.

And that unknown man just smiles once more, looking away for a while before their eyes meet once more.

"Don't worry. I won't beg you to 'not do it', or try to tell you how fucking nice your life is and that 'there is no reason to end it all, right now, right here'."

It sounds smooth as he speaks, his voice a little higher than expected from his figure. However, it does match him in a way. It's quite a unique tone, he thinks to himself as he keeps watching the unknown person with a hint of disbelief.

_Life never gives you those promised miracles they tell you about in movies._

"I also wouldn't try and grab your arm in case you decided to let go right now. Because it's _not_ my decision to make wether you live or not. You clearly got a reason to be here, and I do accept that."

Was that some kind of weird reverse psychology the other is using on him? Could be. But, to be honest... it does sound sincere, the way the slim figure speaks to him, still looking but not judging. The smile is still there, painted along his thin lips, even reaching those dark eyes.

A breath leaves his own lips, one he hasn't even realized he'd held for quite a while now. It relaxes his lungs and his chest sinks down into a more comfortable state. His knuckles are still turned white from the force he uses, but it feels natural at this stage.

"Uh...- huh."

Actually, it's quite impressive he managed to give an answer to that – given the fact that his throat feels dry and his jaw hurts as if set in place and super-glued together.

Also, he's definitely said much wiser words in the past.

But what is he supposed to say right now, though?

The other chuckles, but it's still not judging or condescending. He's used to people giving him sorry smirks and dark chuckles, so this feels foreign to him.

"May I know your name?"

It sounds like casual talk - and as the unknown man keeps looking at him he manages to finally pull his gaze away, looking at the darkness below his feet that shifts and moves, keeps clashing together as the winds pushes it, keeps it going, more and more _and more._

Feels a bit like his own life that has pushed him in the past. Keep on going, just some more, no place to rest. Just a bit more, continue as you fail and fall. Go on, come on, make more mistakes, do not look back, do not learn from the past. Just go on, go on, _go on..._

He gasps for air, a subconscious thing his body does since he's lacking oxygen. He's held his breath once more without realizing; the violent intake of breath waking him up, pulling him back out of that black hole he'd been sinking into once more. Putting him back into reality, into this place, the bridge, the railing he's holding onto and the man that stands just a few feet away.

Such a patient one, still waiting, not saying a single word to try and make him speak.

This is odd. So weird.

This shouldn't be happening.

"Mike.", he finally manages to croak, though he does not know why he even answered that question at the first place. _Why_ should that guy know about it? There's no reason for it. He will be gone soon anyway, no one needed to remember a name from an unimportant soul trying to erase his useless existence so everybody could continue to exist in peace.

"Hey, Mike. I'm Chester. You can call me Chaz if you like. Some people do that."

Mike blinks, lets a few seconds pass before he, somehow, looks back at the other who's still standing there, as if this was the most convenient place to have some smalltalk. Once more he realizes that he is not behind the railing, as he should be, but _in front of_ it, as Mike himself.

It does hit him, in a way. Creating a weird sinking feeling inside his gut as his brain tells him how dangerous this is. Just one wrong move and he, Chester, would be gone. Just as Mike would be, if he finally allowed himself to just relax and let that damn bar of steel slip through his fingers.

It must have shown on his face or something because the other lifts his brows for a moment, shrugging about a second later as he looks down onto his left, than his right hand. As if he was making sure he was still holding onto the railing, leaning back a little.

"It's nothing new for me. I've been here quite a few times. That's probably why I don't really care about where I am standing – or where you are."

"But why?"

Mike speaks before his brain could even stop him from doing so, curiosity getting the better of him. It makes the unwelcomed visitor smile a bit more, but this time it does feel like there's some sadness lingering. Maybe even sympathy?

The question could have been directed at why this wasn't Chester's first time standing here, but he gives a reply to the other possibility.

"Told you before – I am not one to judge and decide wether this should be the end of your life or not. Of course it sucks to see someone making this decision, but I'm someone who firmly believes that each person should be able to decide where their path wents along or stops to exist, _if you know what I mean_. It surely wouldn't help me to be stopped from ending my own life and experiencing peace, just so I can continue to suffer for longer because another soul decided for me that I had to endure this hell until some sickness or _shit_ decides to stop my existence."

Mike asks himself once more if this is still some kind of reversed psychology, if Chester still wants to get him off this bridge while trying to make him believe he sympathizes with whatever the other was going through right now. However, once again, part of Mike tells him that whatever he said still sounded so sincere, as if he was speaking knowledge. As if he had been through that exact situation before.

Maybe he has been there before. _Who knows?_

"Why are you here, then?"

More wind brushes through his hair, ruffling it in the process, causing some black strands to tickle his forehead, one nearly poking into his eye. He blinks it away as he keeps looking at the man next to him. It somehow feels easier to speak at this point, his own voice still hoarse and sounding wrong in his own ears, but at least his jaw seemed to have been freed from the superglue.

"Dunno. Felt like you could need some company."

_Company_ was the last thing he wanted to have at this very moment – or so he tells himself. Wasn't Mike supposed to be all alone while doing that one last step that would finally grant him some peace and quiet? Isn't he supposed to feel lonely, to be forgotten? He'd been alone for years now, why should he be allowed to have someone around now, at this moment?

"Why would you think that?"

"That look on your face you had when I noticed you. I know that expression and I had to make a decision. Turning around and leave you be, or to stay and talk to you. To be honest? It was a gut decision."

Chester chuckles once more, shrugs again as he tilts his head slightly.

His gaze seems to go right through Mike, as if he was reading him, making him feel a little uneasy. He'd always been one to close himself up, not liking to give away too many emotions or feelings and yet there they were, and Chester just looks at him and seems to know everything the man has ever tried to hide.

Or at least, what Mike has been trying to hide right now.

He presses his full, dry lips together, his tongue poking against the back of his front teeth. He could feel his brows knitting slightly, the skin on his forehead pulled taut.

He does not know what to make of this.

It's still so weird and odd, but at the same time it feels comforting and that almost makes him feel guilty. Because he does not want someone to be here for him now, because he does not deserve it, and yet part of him seems to like it.

It's an inner conflict he has _not_ prepared himself for.

"You're quite shaken up, aren't you?" the smooth voice asks, and Mike _almost_ feels himself scoffing at the question.

"Yeah.", is what he answers.  
There's a lot of sarcasm lingering on his tongue, but he keeps it to himself. It just feels... wrong.

However, Chester, once again, seems to sense it - his smile turning a bit more serious but that soft gaze still remaining. Why isn't this man judging Mike? Why is his expression so fucking honest and open, as if they had known each other for years at this point, being best friends or some bullshit?

"You know what someone told me once?"

The question reaches Mike but he does not say anything, he instead just keeps looking at the other.

The man takes it as an invitation to continue.

"You are totally allowed to do what you want. You wanna get out of this hellhole? Fine. You can. It is, and should be, your decison. However..."

Chester pauses for a second, his gaze flickers away for but finds Mike's dark brown eyes once more after a little while.

"Make sure you've thought about it, and do _not_ do it while you're all riled up and emotional and shit. Because emotions and whatever's going through your head right now is making you do things you may regret later. I can totally understand why you want to do it right now, but haven't we all made fuck ass decisions because we've been angry or sad? I mean, I have done shit things because I have been _happy_ , go figure."

That sincere smile returns on Chester's features and by the way it reaches his eyes Mike could tell it isn't staged in any way. Or if it is, he then seems to be really good actor.

His spoken words almost sound wise, soaked so much with rationality and intelligence that it nearly hurt to listen to them. Because Mike has to admit that it totally made sense and to be honest, he would say the exact same thing to someone else who was making weird ass decisions because of some random emotional moment. But directed at himself, at this very moment? Wow. It does feel like someone just gave him a slap right across his face, though it surely wasn't meant this way. And part of Mike takes it personal, while another part just agrees and totally betrays him.

_Fuck_.

Does he want to think about this right now? This was supposed to go much differently – just climb over the railing and jump, easy as that. Just a little moment of discomfort while he fell but then, boom, all gone. Finish. _The end._

But now, there's this stranger talking clever shit that makes sense and makes not at the same time. He's not supposed to be here and stop Mike from going his own way, and he says he does not, but then he speaks and the words just echo through the air surrounding them mercilessly. And while he really wants to not do it, bis bigger brain thinks about it and acknowledges that Chester's right and that he probably is a little riled up now, over-emotional, about to make a gut decision wether he'll jump or not.

And it's not just some random decision about what food he'll have for dinner, but wether he'll _ever_ have dinner again.

"Have you thought about it?"

The question is spoken softly, and Mike swallows as he turns his head away to face the wet darkness below him once more.

"Yeah."

"Okay. That's good."

...

"But, you aren't really relaxed about it all, right?"

"Not really."

Mike's voice trembles as the words leave his mouth.

Is he shaking? His legs feel a bit like it.

"You know, you can always think about it a bit more when you've calmed down a little and come back, right? This bridge isn't going to disappear. You can return whenever you want and feel more sure of yourself and your decisions."

Such _wisdom_.

This time Mike does scoff at it, but only quietly, and the sound is gone within a second.

The worst thing is that this man is damn fucking right.

But he wasn't prepared for someone to speak to him like this. To make him think straight while he stands at the wrong side of the railing, thinking about jumping to his sure death.

Real life isn't supposed to spawn some random miracle out of nowhere so someone can have that happy ending everyone else hopes for while watching the movie, inhaling sweet and salty popcorn like their lives depend on it.

_But maybe this isn't Mike's happy ending._

Maybe it's just going to make it worse so he can be much more sure about this all ...and then, finally, do the last step he's too afraid to do right now.

It is _reassuring_ to think this way. Makes him feel a bit more comfortable. Because no one is going to take away that possibility from him, just giving him more pain to give his decision more weight and depth.

The wind continues to brush along his face, through his hair, cooling the tip of his nose down to temperatures that sure aren't healthy. The world continues to spin as they stand here, as Mike thinks of it all. It does not wait for him or his decision, it does not care about him and that's good. That's how it's supposed to be.

But that man does, who's there, who has appeared out of nowhere. He does wait, he does not continue to spin, as if he's trapped in the same moment.

"We could get some coffee or whatever to warm you up a little, to help you think about it a bit more if you like?"

This is so absurd that Mike _almost_ laughs about it. A random stranger, materializing out of thin air just to tell him that it's fine what he's about to do, but he needs to think about it while getting a cup of coffee first. Just to be absolutely sure.

It feels like a very badly written plot, and he's the main actor of it. Or _Chester_ is. He doesn't know.

His head makes a movement all on its own, causing the other one's smile to grow.


	2. Chapter 2 - Chester's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your kudos! I'm very happy that someone is reading my writing and enjoying it! I hope you will enjoy the second chapter as well. Kudos and comments are always welcome!

It felt like the _Mount Everest_ dropped off of Chester's heart when the unknown man, Mike, silently agreed to grab a cup of coffee instead of jumping to his sure death.

While Chester had been completely honest with everything he'd said – seeing this man standing there, with that broken expression lingering inside his dark, big eyes... he really isn't _too sure_ he could have stopped himself from trying to grab him, had Mike decided not to listen to him and let go instead.

Thank god, though, he does not need to think about this any further. When he returns with two steaming hot paper-cups filled with coffee, the man is still sitting there, on top of that dirty, old wall made of brick and pebble stones, quietly waiting with his gaze glued to the pavement beneath his feet. Mike could have vanished into thin air, but decided to stay, which was a good sign. It causes Chester to sigh in relief as he hands over one of the cups and takes a seat next to the other, wrapping his fingers around the cup to soak in some of the warmth.

It is fucking _freezing_. Sure, one could expect that to happen in November at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night, but still. It is so cold he can see his own breath ghosting in front of his nose as he sips his coffee, and when he lets his gaze trail over to Mike to look at him once more he can see that the other seems to feel the same, judging by the way he wraps his big hands around that – now rather tiny looking – cup.

Mike still looks so sad, Chester thinks to himself. He'd expected that, though - someone who made such a decision surely went through something that had left him so broken there was no strength left to glue it all back together. Getting the other off of that bridge did not _magically_ just repair everything and reset his mood. He himself knows it all too well...

"Feeling a little better?" Chester finally asks after what feels like an eternity. The street in front of him is empty, dark and quiet, as is the air surrounding them. Not a single soul out here, and he actually wonders why that one coffee-shop is still open when no one is around to buy anything... well, except for them both, of course.

He knows it's a stupid question. He knows Mike doesn't feel better, and that he hasn't done much to help him in any way. He could even feel _worse_ at this moment because he wasn't where he wanted to be – a dead corpse sucked down by the merciless waves of that clashing river. Being alive instead, drinking coffee together with a random stranger.

But it would feel wrong to not ask the other this question, even though the answer is predictable. Just to show that he does care – which he _really_ does, by the way – even though Mike probably thinks it's odd, weird even.

"Mh-m." Is what he gets as an answer after a few more quiet seconds pass. Mike does not look up from his cup, his dark lashes standing out boldly against his pale, cold looking skin. He's asian, at least partially, Chester's brain realizes. It's nothing that he needs to know at this moment and yet he cannot stop himself from observing it as he keeps watching the other, taking a soft breath as he nods his head carefully.

He does wonder what exactly has pushed Mike so far. Sure, he's curious, has always been a nosy soul since his early childhood, but it's something else that makes him want to know. It has to do with himself, with the fact that he can _relate_ to the man's feelings. He'd been there before, at that same point, mentally, knows how draining and exhausting it is. Knows it's painful and hurts in places others can hardly reach. He may even be alone, without anyone by his side, no friends, no family, who knows? Maybe just like Chester, back then...

"In case you want to talk about it, I'm a _good listener._ " Chester offers.

Once more, he's very well aware of the fact that Mike probably won't just start talking and telling a stranger whatever hurts his soul. Chester's not stupid – even though some people think of him that way – but he feels like the least he can do is to offer an ear for the other to speak to, in case he feels the need to let it all out.

He can see the other closing his eyes for a moment as the words reach him. He's probably thinking about it, about Chester, how ridiculous this and the whole conversation is. Oh, yes, Chester just knows. He knows it all so goddamn well it nearly hurts his heart and brain, leaving him desperate to just tell Mike but he doesn't. It won't help, because Mike won't care. Which is only natural and normal behavior. Chester has been through all this shit before, it almost felt like some kind of weird deja-vu to him.

And while that kind of knowledge definitely helps, it also makes things much harder in a way.

" _Why_ would you think that?"

Ah, yes. The answer they all have been waiting for. Once again, this does not surprise Chester at all, so he's not taken-aback by the man's rather taunting reply. There's no harshness in the tone of Mike's voice but there's something there that makes it rather obvious, it's probably the soft-spoken emphasis of the word 'why' that gives it away.

Still, he's not looking at Chester. His eyes do open after another second though and he looks up, staring whatever is in front of him – unfocussed. Long fingers still curling around that cup, like it is some sort of anchor that holds him where he is, and it feels _oh-so relatable._

"I _don't._ " Chester replies, lifting a brow as he pauses for a minute before he continues. "I just think that venting to a random person can be helpful and take away some of that weight, you know? I don't expect you to want to talk to me, I'm just offering in case you feel the need to."

Whatever it is that Chester has said – Mike, _finally_ , turns his head to face him and their gazes meet. It's the first time since they've met each other on that bridge, and his big, dark brown eyes – much closer and easier to see now - cause Chester's breath to get stuck inside his throat for a fraction of a second. Not because the man's stare is uncomfortable in any way, it's just so... _intense_.

It stays like this for a while. Mike looks at him and Chester looks back. He's not a mind-reader, he doesn't know what goes through the man's head at that moment, what he thinks about exactly, but his gaze is telling a lot. Having such big eyes surely wasn't always the most helpful thing to own because they were readable to a certain degree, but at the same time...

_Jesus Christ._

That guy got some good genes from his parents.

Yes, he knows, _wrong moment and such,_ but Chester can't help it. For being a man, Mike _does_ have really big, _impressive_ eyes.

"Listen, you don't need to." Something just made Chester feel like he needs to say it, to make it clear that he does not want to push the other to do things he doesn't want to. It should be obvious, Mike should know, but _still_. The last thing he wants to be is that weird psycho stranger that expects a broken man to just open up his heart and puke all his vulnerable feelings out onto the pavement.

He just wants to be nice. To help, in any way. Because he knows how this feels and while he does not know about Mike's life and the weight he's carrying around, he can relate to his feelings and that thought, need, of ending it all to finally be over with it.

"You're nosy." Mike concludes dryly and the way he says it almost makes Chester chuckle, but he stops himself from doing it. He instead keeps holding that gaze, shrugging after a while because... well, Mike is right, in a way.  
"Yeah, I am. But that's _not_ the reason I'm offering."

It's the truth, and judging by the way the other looks at him, he can tell that Mike seems to try and find out wether Chester's just acting nice or really meaning it.

But then, after what feels an eternity, those big brown eyes finally break free and Mike averts his gaze, looking back down onto his cup while his fingertips start to scratch along the paper, probably just to do _something_ and release some of his inner stress. And that breath that had been stuck in Chester's chest is finally breaking free as well; he lets it escape through his nostrils, his own gaze trailing to take in the sight of those nervous fingers instead.

While Chester is someone who finds it rather enjoyable to communicate and rarely experiences problems while meeting new people and getting a conversation going – doing it like this, during such a unique situation, while someone is clearly broken and hurt, it's just _so fucking hard._ It's so easy to say the wrong thing, to unintentionally hurt the other just by phrasing something odd, just by choosing a word that's not liked – and it gets even harder when that person you're talking to isn't someone you're familiar with, but actually just a stranger. A random man.

He worries that he may have said something bad. That there was something in his words that hurt Mike, or punched him somewhere without Chester wanting it to. And it sucks because he really cannot tell, so he cannot do _anything_ to make it better or to apologize.

... Yeah, part of Chester was actually very insecure. Most people _didn't_ really know that, thought of him as being confident and always happy. A good sport.

"Well, I fucked up."

The words cause him to look back up, to Mike's face instead of his fingers, taking in the sight of him still staring down at his cup. A lone gust of wind ruffles that black asian hair, his beard, and Chester can see him blinking before he continues to speak.

" _Yeah_ , I fucked up. That's basically it. Just me making bad decisions and ruining it for everyone." While his words have been soft-spoken before, the tone now keeps gaining intensity as he goes on, brows knitting and pulling the skin of his forehead taught.

"It's my fault. Sure thing there have been assholes in between but – to be completely honest? Yeah, it was _me_ who did all that stupid shit. Doesn't matter what I did exactly, but it was enough for me to ruin my whole existence."

It is then that Mike takes a breath and faces Chester once more, pressing his full lips into a thin line as a moment or two pass. He just _stares_ , and all Chester can do is to look back, waiting patiently for the man to decide wether he wanted to continue or not.

He can read it in his eyes that Mike is thinking quite hard about this. What to do next. Probably trying to find good words for whatever he wants to say. He almost looks frustrated, huffs as he blinks slowly and shakes his head.

"And in the end – all I have left of what was once mine is this _stupid cup of coffee_ -" His hands squeeze the cup tightly as he mentions it, and Chester feels himself worrying about Mike breaking it which would cause _piping hot liquid_ to run over his naked fingers... but, thank god, the cup seems to be stronger than it looks like. "-and some _useless_ furniture without a home to put them in. Don't even own a bed or a fucking _toilet_ anymore."

Silence spreads between them after Mike has finished. Chester simply doesn't know what to say just yet, to say anything at all or to give the other more time and space, and so he keeps quiet as he looks at the other. Wether it's the silence or not, Chester doesn't know, but he can see something changing inside those dark brown eyes before Mike quickly clears his throat, almost acting... embarassed, all of a sudden. His gaze averts and he swallows visibly as a sigh escapes his lips.

"Sorry.", he mumbles, defeated. "I'm just-"  
"No, don't be." Chester quickly interrupts him – he doesn't want the other to think he has done anything wrong, and Mike just starts to act like he does. After all, he totally gets the mood the man is in, that everything is making him angry. He has every reason to be emotionally unstable, especially when Chester keeps in mind what he had just spoken about. That he lost everything, including his home.

"As far as I can tell, you've got _every reason_ to be angry." He shrugs as Mike looks back up to meet his gaze again, and Chester allows himself to smile after a little while.  
"I said I'm here to listen in case you need to vent, so it's _fine_."

Mike's reaction to that is another slow blink as he presses his lips together once more. He seems to be in thought for a while, tongue poking out for a split-second before disappearing as he keeps looking at Chester. A bit like a deer in headlights, Chester thinks to himself.

It lasts for a few minutes, then Mike's eyes trail back to that cup still being held by his slim fingers. That one cup of coffee that brought them both here. Which, to be honest, probably had been the _reason_ for Mike to not jump off that bridge. Maybe Chester's smooth talking had had something to do with it as well, but who knew?

Silence spreads between the two once more. At this point it's nothing unfamiliar anymore, a thing that just keeps coming back which doesn't necessarily mean it's bad. Chester's sure that Mike just needs it, those moments of peace and quiet in between those few words that have been spoken. And while he isn't sure he's really leaving a big impact on that man, he just hopes that he is able to do at least something, helping him a little with his presence and that cheap but helpful cup of coffee.

However, _one thing_ really doesn't sit well with Chester.

Yeah, he's managed to get Mike away from that bridge. That's good. At least for now. But he's one to keep his word – if the other really wanted to end his life, he wouldn't be the one to try to stop him with whatever it takes. It is still, and will _always_ be, _Mikes_ decision.

But just... letting him go now? Sure, a cup filled with well made coffee could be a real game-changer, but is it _enough_ at this point? Did it feel right for Chester to leave it at that, to wish that guy a goodbye without... well, without giving him more chances to think thoroughly about how – and if – he wanted to end his life?

After all, Chester had been the one lecturing Mike about that whole ' _don't-do-shit-while-you're-emotionally-compromised_ ' stuff, right?

But... Mike is homeless. He'd just told Chester about that.

And _that_ is _that one thing_ that really doesn't sit well with him. Because how on earth is the man supposed to thoroughly think about it while being forced to live on the street? Reminding him how much he has lost, with every second, every moment that passes by?

Leaving Mike behind like that does not feel right. He surely would just realize how fucking alone he still is, that there is still no home to go back to after he's finished his drink, and then? Probably go back to that bridge. Still upset and hurt, driven by strong, untamed emotions.

Letting his own gaze trail over the other again, taking in the sight of him sitting there, defeated, his posture kind of limp, that sad expression lingering on his features...   
How on earth is Chester supposed to leave him behind, like a _beaten puppy_ , and continue on with his own life?!

He should at least offer Mike some more help. Sure, there was no way he could force him into anything, but... giving it a try wouldn't hurt, right?

So he takes a deep breath as he sits more upright, gathering his thoughts for a second before he begins to speak.

"So... you said you're homeless, right?"

Saying it out loud must have hurt – because Mike almost _twitched_ when Chester mentioned it, closing his eyes a moment later.  
"That sounds even _worse_ when you phrase it like that.", he just replies, his voice sounding thin, and Chester almost feels guilty for being so blunt. But it is what it is, there is no way he could make it sound any better, right?

"I'm sorry, Mike.", he apologizes, "But... what I wanted to say – do you have a place to stay for the night?"

"I'll manage." Mike takes another sip of coffee.  
No, that wasn't enough.  
"Hey, I mean it – it's a serious question." Chester tilts his head a little, makes sure he gets the point across by raising the tone of his voice just a bit. _Just so_ that Mike looks back at him and meets his gaze after a few seconds.

Better.

"So – do you have _somewhere_ to go?", he asks once more. And Mike hesitates.

It's all Chester needs as an answer – it's clear that the other has no friend he can visit, no place where he can spend the night. Probably doesn't even have enough money on himself to get a hotel room for just one additional day.

"Alright, hear me out – As I said, you _really_ should think about this once more. And I'm not saying this just to stop you from whatever you wanna do, really. I won't be the one deciding over your own life." Just to make this clear. Mike listens, though he does look like he wants to interrupt the other. He does not do it, though.

So Chester continues.

"But being on the street surely does not help you at all. Believe me, I've lived on the street for a few weeks and _that_ shit just _sucks_. You need a place to rest, to calm down, somewhere where you can totally focus on _yourself_ and your feelings."

He should have studied _psychology-stuff_ , right? Didn't his words sound _convincing_? At least a little bit?

"So, what I'm saying is – I do have a nice _couch_ you could crash onto."

Okay, even though Chester is sure the man has long realized what he is talking about, Mike still looks utterly surprised once he's ended his sentence. He just stares at him, as he'd done before, eyes wide.

"What?"

"I'm serious. _Listen_ , you cannot-"

"I'm a total stranger!" Mike exclaims, obviously bewildered by Chester's offer. "You don't even _know_ me! I could be a murderer just searching for my next victim – hell, _you_ could be a _weird ass psycho_ trying to lure me in!"

That now causes Chester to blink in surprise before he snorts, unable to stop himself, while he feels his lips stretch into a smirk.

"Well, yeah, but you want to die _anyway_ , right? So that shouldn't be a problem at all."

Mike just... stops.  
That expression lingering on his face, it's the _most unique thing_ Chester has seen in quite a while. A pure mixture of all sorts of emotions, and he's sure that Mike himself is just as overwhelmed with himself as his face tells at that very moment.

"And I myself haven't got much to lose as well. So in case you really want to murder me? Well, that's it then. Have to _accept_ that. Won't change my mind, though. I'm still offering you my couch."

"Chester, I can't-"  
"Oh, you _can_."

"No, I'm not-"

" _I don't care._ "

Chester really doesn't. He wants Mike to come with him, at least for one night, just so he could get some sleep and clear his head. Maybe he really shouldn't worry that much about someone he doesn't even know, but... this whole thing, the situation itself, it had affected him. Mike was so alone, he was lost, he had nothing left. Everyone deserved someone to _care for them_ , right?

" _Come on_. At least for tonight, okay? You can leave whenever you want. Just take a shower, grab some sleep, alright?"


End file.
